


i need to feel needed (and i need it more than i let on)

by ftmpeter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lives, and he damn well uses it, everyone except tony and peter are just mentioned, kind of, or at least, tony is much more put together after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 11:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21035552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftmpeter/pseuds/ftmpeter
Summary: "The world moved on without me," Peter finally says. There’s no inflection in his voice, no emotion, like all of his feelings had turned to dust at the same time he did and never quite returned. "The world moved on without me, and.. I don’t know if it wants me anymore."Tony swallows past the sudden lump in his throat, words failing him in a way he didn’t think was possible, because how do you explain to someone - toPeter- the grief, the overwhelming grief and anguish and heartache that the world had to face when they weren’t there to see it? When they can only see the aftermath?-Peter doesn't really understand just how much Tony grieved during the five years he was gone.





	i need to feel needed (and i need it more than i let on)

**Author's Note:**

> when i write, it's never in order. i might start with the ending and work my way to having a beginning, or i start in the middle and need to figure out how to put it into a plot, or i just write one sentence and have literally no idea where it's supposed to go after that. this fic is no different. i wrote one part of it a couple weeks ago, the part that’s in the description, and finally managed to put it together into something that actually makes sense in the span of about three hours. to make a long story short tony stark is alive with a prosthetic arm and absolutely none of you can stop me

After everything, Tony spends a lot of time doing nothing.

There’s something very relaxing about nothing. No obligations, no pressing issues to get to, no problems to solve, no world to save. Just.. nothing. Just the present, the mundane day-to-day things he had never appreciated before. Breathing in, out, in, out. Sleeping in, waking up naturally, whether that be at dawn or noon. He had never really let himself simply _ live _ before, because he had never particularly wanted to. Living was something to put up with, not enjoy.

Things have changed.

It’s the beginning of fall and a late Tuesday afternoon when he walks down to the lake. Pepper is out running errands, and Morgan has piano lessons after school, so he has the place to himself for the time being. In another time Tony might have felt lonely, but family is so written into every part of him that being alone isn't as bad as it used to be.

The summer weather is finally leaving, cool breezes and crisp air taking its place, and even though it’s hell for his muscles, Tony tries to walk around the property every couple of days. That’s something they went over in physical therapy, how _ blah blah blah _ it’s good for you mentally and physically _ blah blah blah _he forgets the details. It’s just nice to take everything in sometimes.

A black bird soars above him, and he watches it perch itself on top of a tree. Its head moves back and forth, taking in its surroundings, before it flies off again in the direction of the setting sun.

He finds a bench eventually, and sits down, gazing out at the water. It reflects back at him, ripples popping up whenever the wind blows. Tony feels peaceful. It’s a feeling he still has some trouble getting used to, sure, but welcomes all the same.  
  
About ten minutes later - what simultaneously feels like both an eternity and a millisecond - Tony becomes aware of someone behind him, the zip of a backpack, the crackling of grass. He sits up, cursing at the crick in his neck, and looks behind him, for some reason expecting Morgan and her bright grin, her excited tales of school -

"Peter?"

The kid is a few feet away from him, and stops dead in his tracks when Tony says his name, like a deer caught in headlights.

"What are you doing here, buddy?" He asks, taking note of the dark bags underneath Peter’s eyes and how he seems about ready to pass out.

"Thought I’d stop by," he mumbles.

"Well, that’s always okay," Tony reassures, not wanting to press too hard right now. He moves over to make room for him on the bench, and rests a hand on the wood. "Sit."

Peter hesitates, something he hasn’t done around him in forever. But he does, dropping his bag against his legs as he sits and runs a hand through his perpetually messy curls. He spares a glance at Tony before leaning back, looking out at the lake like it holds all of the answers for whatever questions are in his head.

They stay like that for a while, Tony letting himself drink in the sight that is Peter. His hair is slowly getting longer, twisting right below his ears, and he knows that May is probably badgering him every other day to get it cut. His jawline is more defined, but he still has the same baby face that he’s always had. He still constantly twitches, whether it’s in the form of his fingers pulling at everything they can reach or his leg bouncing or his foot tapping. He still chews on his bottom lip, tearing at the fragile skin until it threatens to bleed. He’s so familiar that it hurts, but he’s also different, from the way he holds himself to the way he takes in the world, like he’s an outsider to it all.

Tony’s not ashamed of seeing Peter as his son anymore, of seeing him the same way he sees Morgan now. That shame withered the moment he lost him on Titan, the moment he turned to ash in his hands. And now that he has a renewed lease on life, he’s not going to let his childhood, let _ Howard _ get in the way of loving this kid. As cliche as it is, life is short. Life is short and he’s become painfully aware of that fact.

Almost as if he can sense Tony thinking about him, Peter scoots closer, so their shoulders are touching.

"Hey, kid,” Tony says, as casually as he can. "What’s up?"

Peter shrugs, fiddling with his jacket absentmindedly.

"School let out for you.. what, three hours ago? Shouldn’t you be at home, doing whatever it is you do?" Tony frowns. "Does May even know you’re here?"

"Had work," he croaks, then coughs. His voice is clearer when he says, "Double shift. Just.. didn’t wanna be alone."

Something clicks in Tony’s head at that, understanding suddenly dawning on him. Ever since the world slowly began to go back to a semblance of normal following the snap, Peter’s been.. distant. It’s not hard to imagine why. He’s the only one who truly felt it all, who felt himself disintegrate then immediately got thrown into a war zone, a world five years older than him. Even with half the universe sharing a similar experience, they don’t really _ get _ it. Nobody can. Not even Tony.

Peter went through his own personal hell.

"I’m tired," he whispers this time. "I’m really tired, Mr. Stark."

It’s quiet. Tony tries his best to push down the pang in his chest. For the kid’s sake.

"The world moved on without me," Peter finally says. There’s no inflection in his voice, no emotion, like all of his feelings had turned to dust at the same time he did and never quite returned. "The world moved on without me, and.. I don’t know if it wants me anymore."

Tony swallows past the sudden lump in his throat, words failing him in a way he didn’t think was possible, because how do you explain to a person - to _ Peter _ \- the grief, the overwhelming grief and anguish and heartache that the world had to face when they weren’t there to see it? When they can only see the aftermath?

He holds up his right arm almost unconsciously, watching the prosthetic glint in the light.

(Tony had had the money and the resources to get a much more realistic one when he learned they were going to amputate his arm, but he turned it down in favor of cool metal, cold against his skin. It just felt.. wrong, in a way, to patch it up like nothing happened. It felt like he would be erasing what he had done.)

Peter’s eyes catch on it as well, and he stares at it the same way you would a boring sheet of homework - apathetically, like it means nothing at all. But Tony can feel the undercurrent of pain in his gaze, the regret weighing down on him so heavily it’s a wonder he hasn’t collapsed underneath it.

"Come with me," Tony says after a moment of silence, standing up and taking a few steps towards the cabin. Autumn leaves crunch underneath his feet, and he looks back at Peter, who’s sitting still, absently staring at the spot Tony was. "Kid. You there?"

Peter jumps at that, having the expression of someone who had blanked out for a little too long. He turns to look at Tony questioningly.

"Come with me," he repeats. "I want to show you something."

They make their way to the cabin, Tony sighing in contentment when the warm air hits him. Christ, he’s getting old. Who knew he’d be _ glad _ to have a fireplace?

With the fireplace in mind, he makes his way over to it, flipping on the living room lights as he does. When he looks over his shoulder, Peter’s standing near one of the couches, uncertain to what Tony’s doing.

For a second, Tony stops to admire the picture he’s grabbed off the shelf - Peter’s dumb _ get a load of this guy _face as he does bunny ears above Tony’s head, oblivious to the fact that the man is doing the same. The even dumber Stark Internship certificate thing, which had been a joke between the two for long after. He’s looked at it so many times, when the pain was too unbearable, the guilt too much, that every detail is ingrained into his memory even to this day. It’s not too noticeable, next to all the other pictures Pepper insisted they put up, so it’s no wonder Peter hasn’t caught it yet.

He looks up at Peter, having to remind himself that he’s alive now. He’s here and real and _ alive_, and somehow so, so lost to just how many people missed him. How many murals of Spider-Man littered Queens after they realized that he had to be one of the vanished. How many nights Pepper had to hold Tony as he grieved for the son he never had.

"Here," he tells him, handing him the frame.

Peter frowns. "What is - "

He stops mid-sentence, opening his mouth and closing it again. He stares down at the picture in his grasp like it’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen.

"I never moved on," Tony says quietly. "Never."

Peter is so still it’s unnerving. His eyes are locked onto the picture, but his hands begin to shake. "I - I don’t - why - "

"I watched you.. I watched you _die_, Peter," Tony’s voice breaks, but he continues as steady as he can. "You were.. you _are_ my responsibility. And I failed you. If you think anyone moved on, especially me, we’re gonna need to have a talk about what kind of drugs you’re taking."

"You - you didn’t fail me."

Tony can’t help but snort. Of course that’s the one thing the kid takes from that.

"That’s another conversation," he responds, shaking his head. "That’s not what I’m getting at, though."

"But why - "

"I love you, Peter," he says simply. An old, small part of him protests at that, yelling something about insecurity and deep-seated daddy issues, but he ignores it. The kid needs to know this. "No one moved on. No one. We just learned to live with it. And that.. I’m going to be honest. That’s the hardest shit I’ve ever done."

Peter looks up at him. His fingers curl tightly around the frame, like he’s afraid it’ll disappear.

"But you had Morgan," he says. "And Pepper."

Tony nods. "You’re right. But have you ever asked Morgan who her favorite superhero is?" When Peter only blinks in response, he shoots him a small smile.

"It’s Spider-Man. Not Iron Man, which is sort of rude, to be honest. But Spider-Man. I’ve told her so many stories of your.. being a very reckless vigilante who gave me headaches more often than not, that she literally loves you. Haven’t you ever wondered why she’s imprinted onto you like a baby duck?"

Peter's eyes are suspiciously wet, so Tony reaches forward and gently takes the picture from him. He puts it back down on the shelf, before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Peter in a tight hug.

"I don't know what it's like," he says into his hair. He's lucky Peter hasn't grown those last few inches yet, or else he would be taller than him, and Tony is most definitely not ready for that. "But I don't _ever_ want you to think that no one cared, or that you don't have a place in this world. You're smarter than that."

"I know," Peter says into his chest. "I know."

The echo of a car door slamming shut and the distinct sound of Morgan’s giggle startles the both of them, but Tony doesn't let go at first. When he does, he presses a kiss to Peter's forehead.

"I know you know. I'm just here to remind you when you forget."


End file.
